


Who Would Have Guessed?

by Oop



Series: Runs in the Family [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Gen, feel good, super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1593656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oop/pseuds/Oop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Always a pleasure to help out a fellow Slytherin," Draco says, jerking his head in the general direction of Lily's bed. </p><p>Harry's eyes narrow. "I don't think so, Malfoy."</p><p>Draco simply smirks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Would Have Guessed?

As things have worked out, the Golden Trio (and their respective spouses and offspring) attends the Malfoy Christmas party every year. 

Draco happens to be the foremost expert in potions in all of Western Europe and is called into the Ministry no fewer than once every other week as a consult in the substances department. This means that, occasionally, he bumps into Potter and Weasley. The three of them have managed to work surprisingly well together on several cases. That, and Astoria, a bright Mediwitch by any standard, has come to be excellent friends with Granger-Weasley. They met when Hermione once had to stay at the hospital for three days straight after a raid went arse-up and Weasley ended up wounded.

Then there's the fact that all of their children are practically inseparable, running around like a pack of wild wolves and getting into every manner of mischief whenever two or more so much as sense each other's presence in the vicinity. Even Scorpius can't help but behave like an absolute heathen when any of them are within a mile radius.

And because Fate apparently takes great pleasure in making Draco's life absolutely, impossibly strange, their three families have become what some might call friends (complete with a babysitting rotation and everything), but what Draco considers more than averagely tolerable acquaintances, or, when pressed, allies and coworkers. When he voices this to Astoria as she's getting ready, she only huffs an indulgent laugh and shakes her head, telling him that he's ridiculous before expounding, as usual, "I don't care what you consider them, but you'd best be civil. You know that Hermione and I are great friends, and I want them to feel welcome."

"Merlin help me, my wife is best friends with Granger." He pauses for a moment. "Do you suppose I could get them to leave early if I sit them next to Blaise and Pansy?"

"You and I both know that we don't have arranged seating; it's horribly tacky. And we both also know that you actually like them, so I don't know why we have this conversation every year."

Before Draco can say anything in response, Astoria turns and pecks him firmly on the mouth – her cue that the conversation is over. She hands him a necklace and then turns, holding up her impeccably curled hair so that he can clasp it for her. Draco allows himself a small smile. Leave it to his mother to find the one woman left in Britain willing to marry a Malfoy, and she's not even minimally pliant. 

"Is this the necklace I got you for your birthday?" he asks, although it's not actually a question. It's his way of letting her know that he'll drop the conversation. 

"It is," she answers, lifting a hand to delicately touch the emeralds that match her evening gown. 

"I'm glad to see that you still like it." 

"Of course I do," she says, turning around again to wrap her arms around his neck. The earnestness in her eyes strikes Draco, nearly taking his breath away.

"You look absolutely stunning," he says, brushing a curl carefully away from his wife's face. 

"Thank you," she says, lighting up at the compliment the same way she did when Draco gave her rarer compliments as an awkward twenty-year-old. Her smile is bright and blinding. "You look quite handsome yourself," she tells him, her hands idly sliding down to adjust his lapels. 

Draco smiles softly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her snuggly to him. He sighs. "Alright."

"Alright what?"

"I'll be nice to them. But only because you're so beautiful when you smile that it makes me do shamefully stupid, un-Malfoy-like things."

Astoria laughs and kisses him. He smiles against her mouth. 

Just at that moment, Scorpius bursts in. "Mum, where's my— oh, gross!"

Draco and Astoria slowly break apart, and Draco reaches out to fix Astoria's lipstick with a swipe of his thumb, earning him a grateful smile, before he rounds on Scorpius. "I'll show you gross!" he says, approaching his horrified son while making obnoxious kissing noises, knowing his behavior would have every previous Malfoy rolling in their graves if they could see it. Scorpius immediately retreats from the room, and Draco makes to follow, although he pauses in the doorway. "I'll see you downstairs, love. And you really do look gorgeous."

With that, he heads toward Scorpius's room to help his son with whatever crisis was so daunting that he inexcusably disregarded his manners by forgetting to knock before entering their bedroom.

\---

The party isn't held at the Manor because, frankly, the austere building makes everyone uncomfortable. Draco and Astoria have taken to hosting the Malfoy Christmas party, although his mother sends several house elves (Draco and Astoria have only one who is so old they try to make her do as little as possible) to make all of the food. Their home is plenty large for it, and usually requires little cleaning. Besides, it's always decorated magnificently for the holidays because Astoria apparently adored Charms during school, and time away from Hogwarts has not lessened that adoration, it seems. Draco doesn't complain about it until she forces him to help, and even then it's only half-hearted. 

Sometimes, when Astoria is too busy to notice, Draco shows Scorpius how to cast simple charms – some tinsel here, an ornament there – and lets him help with the tree. She'd skin them both alive if she knew that Draco allowed Scorpius to practice magic underage, but for now, what she doesn't know won't kill them. 

They mostly stay in the main hall, where tables and chairs have been set up and the Christmas tree nearly brushes the ceiling. Weasley had called it ostentatious the first time he'd come, and Draco had told him that his vocabulary was precisely the same. They'd shared a quiet bickering match until Astoria had come around and, after staring at it critically for a few moments, made the damned tree even larger with a flick of her wand. Weasley had chuckled while Draco drank stonily from his glass, refusing to even look at Ron. 

Now the moron complains if the tree isn't nearly touching the ceiling with a "the kids like it better this way," that sounds like a lie to Draco, who only smirks and shrugs dismissively. 

The kids, of course, go crazy. They've only been away from each other for a matter of weeks, if that, but they act like it's been years. They all run at each other with startling fervor, chattering excitedly over one another, voices rising into shouts until Hermione, surprisingly, is the first to snap.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, just go outside and romp around, already," she says, and the children, all but Scorpius already in their winter gear, immediately run outside. "And don't come back in until you can behave like human beings!" she calls after them. 

"Well, that was easy," Ron says. 

"Well done," Ginny responds.

"To Hermione," Astoria says, and they have their first toast of the evening. 

They sit around chatting, laughing, and (in Draco and Weasley's case) bickering, until a house elf, wearing a bright bow Astoria had charmed onto his usual simple clothing, appears at Draco's elbow. "Dinner is ready, Master Draco, sir."

He acknowledges the elf with a smile and brief, though sincere, thanks before he takes Astoria's hand from where it's resting daintily on his knee and raises it to his mouth, kissing it. "Lead the guests to the dining room and I'll fetch the demons indoors," he says. 

"Of course," his wife responds with a smile, standing and enticing everyone toward the dining room with descriptions of the best dishes they've had prepared for the evening. Draco's heart thumps extraordinarily hard for a few moments as he watches Astoria walk away. She is absolutely brilliant, and Draco can't help but smile as he thinks about how every party they attend, they get invited back because of Astoria; "Oh, Astoria, darling, it's been such a pleasure. You – and Draco, too, of course – are welcome back any time!" It used to offend him that he was always an afterthought to Astoria, that he only got invitations to at least two parties a week because they wanted his wife to attend. (Hell, the invitations may as well have said, "Don't bother coming without your wife," if he's honest.) Now, however, he feels only a swell of emotion because when Astoria gets complimented, Draco does also, because she chose him and that has to count for something.

The cold air that blasts through the doors feels absolutely refreshing. Draco steps out onto the front step and draws a deep breath that chills his throat and lungs. "Calling all barbarian children: dinner is ready!"

He waits patiently for a few moments, knowing that they heard him, but they don't come running to the door. Draco sighs before adding, "Your grandmother's pudding is ready, Scorpius!"

"C'mon, guys!" he hears Scorpius say excitedly, and a few moments later, a horde of children come stampeding toward the door. 

Draco counts them as they rush by, making sure they didn't leave anyone behind to suffer the cold in their haste to get in. Lily trails behind a short ways, the youngest of the bunch and obviously already exhausted from the evening's romping. 

"Remember, boots off at the door," Draco reminds the older kids as they pile inside, then turns to face Lily. "Alright there, Lily?" He hates to admit that she's adorable, especially considering the garish tint of her hair, but she is. Abominably so. 

"I'm alright, Mr. Malfoy," she says, trudging her way to the first step. 

He chuckles. "Mr. Malfoy? I think not. You can call me Draco, Lily."

She stops and looks up at him. "But James and Al say it's rude to not call you Mr. Malfoy."

Draco waves away her concern with a flick of his hand. "Then it'll just be your special privilege." He leans down, putting his hands on his knees. "Only you can call me Draco."

She smiles tentatively. "Okay," she says, before her gaze drifts down to the next step to regard it with what appears to be weary reluctance before sliding it back over to Draco, as if she's being subtle. If it were Scorpius, Draco would refuse on principal, but as it is, he simply smirks and wonders if the Potters might have a future Slytherin on their hands. The thought makes him deliriously happy, and he decides right then that will encourage any and all of Lily's potentially underhanded qualities. He feels it is his duty.

Draco smirks. "Fancy a lift?" he asks, and can barely contain his grin when Lily nods shyly, as if it weren't her aim from the start. "Very well," Draco says. "Up we go, then." He takes a step forward and lifts Lily, holding her on his hip. He's always somewhat surprised at the incredible density of children; they look so small and fragile, and yet feel like boulders once off the ground.

He carries her inside, closes the door, and then moves to set Lily down. However, she clings to him tightly. He smirks indulgently and says, "Very well. Shoes off," as he toes off his own.

Lily similarly toes her own off, and they drop to the floor, integrating into the pile of shoes already messily accumulated. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Draco," she says, and Draco smiles, heading toward the dining room. No one even glances as they enter, probably due in large part to the hurricane of children trying to buffet the tables, only just held at bay by exasperated adults filling plates more quickly than should be possible. Hermione has her wand out and is in the process of hovering some of whatever Hugo and Rose point to onto plates. Even Astoria is struggling to keep Scorpius at bay as she fills his plate.

"Here we are," Draco says, setting Lily down despite the fact that she clings as she did before. "Off to your parents, Lily."

She sighs, but otherwise smiles at him before rushing off to her parents, apparently much less tired now that she's inside. Draco can't help but feel as if he'd just been manipulated and used by a small child, but he feels oddly happy about it when he considers just how right he must be about the potential of Potter's child being Slytherin. 

With a private grin, he heads toward Astoria to help her control their son and get the actual process of eating started.

\---

By the end of the evening, Draco finds himself stepping carefully over children who have dropped in place, their unconscious bodies in a circle sprawled around a forgotten game of gobstones. Most of them snore, Draco notices as he pulls a throw from the back of a nearby couch and tosses it gently over Rose and Lily, who are curled together farthest away from the fire burning in the hearth. He looks up to find Hermione smiling at him gratefully, and he nods to her before continuing on his way across the room toward the kitchen.

Once he gets there, he can't remember why he went in the first place. However, he sees the house elves gathered around immediately tense up, looking shamed that Draco would have to come find something himself when they could have brought it, but he gestures for them to stay still as he tries to recall why he'd entered the room to begin with. 

Eventually he just shrugs and reaches for one of the leftover desserts. Before he takes a bite, he raises a secretive finger to his lips. "Shh. Mistress Malfoy is not to know about this," he tells them conspiratorially, taking a step back only to bump into a firm presence. 

"What is Mistress Malfoy not to know about?" Astoria asks as Draco whirls to face her, simultaneously hiding the pastry behind his back. 

Draco simply stares at her for a moment, eyes going glassy as he struggles to come up with an excuse. Before he can manage, Astoria smirks knowingly. "Sneaking sweets, are you?"

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Draco says, inching to the side so that he can possibly make a break for the door.

"What's that behind your back, then?"

Draco twists his upper half around and unceremoniously shoves the entire pastry into his mouth. (He had never considered doing such a ridiculous thing until he'd seen Scorpius do it when he was younger. Sometimes children are geniuses.) He twists back around to display his empty hands to Astoria, despite the fact that his cheeks are bulged and he has flakes all around his mouth; he can feel them clinging to his lips and it annoys him fiercely. 

"Obviously I was mistaken," Astoria says with sarcasm as she watches Draco struggle to chew. He simply nods his agreement. 

"Ah, well, that's okay," she says, reaching around him to grab a pastry of her own. She bites it delicately, somehow managing not to lose a single stray flake. She turns and heads for the door. "Come say goodbye, Draco. Everyone is leaving."

He manages a sigh of relief as he continues chewing. (What a terrible idea – shoving an entire dessert into his mouth at once. Perhaps he'd been too quick to give praise to the idea before he considered the repercussions.) He's exhausted and wants nothing more than to shuck his trousers (he's already lost his tie and jacket, as well as undone his top few buttons) and sleep. 

With a grimace, Draco finally swallows the dessert, wipes his mouth on a napkin, and walks toward the door to open it for his wife. After she leaves, he turns back to house elves, smiles, and thanks them for their spectacular service. 

As it turns out, there aren't enough people to carry all of the unconscious bodies, so Draco ends up once again carrying Lily, stepping through the floo while Ginny and Harry manage their boys. 

"This way," Ginny says when he steps through, leading him up the stairs. "Last room on the left, please," she says as she opens a door to put her son to bed. 

Draco takes Lily to the specified room and nearly falls several times over scattered toys that he can't see. He hadn't thought to bring his wand, not expecting small plastic pieces and stuffed animals to assault his feet. He should have known better, truly. Still, he is a world-renowned potions master, and he has confidence that no number of children's toys, sharp edges or no, will deter him from success. 

Eventually, Draco manages to find the bed, and he begins blindly groping around for the end that has pillows, trying his damndest to keep Lily from waking. He sighs audibly when he orients himself and then carefully lowers his burden onto the bed. Before he leaves, he expertly slides the blankets out from under her and settles them back over her. 

"Good night, Lily," he says before warily picking his way back across the room toward the door, where he finds Harry waiting with a tilt to his lips. 

"Potter," Draco acknowledges, the greeting carrying no malice, but more a force of habit than anything. 

"Thanks," Harry says.

"Always a pleasure to help out a fellow Slytherin," Draco says, jerking his head in the general direction of Lily's bed. 

Harry's eyes narrow. "I don't think so, Malfoy."

Draco simply smirks. Maybe Harry hasn't noticed Lily's antics in the midst of his sons' rowdiness, or he simply doesn't see it because he doesn't know what to look for, but Draco knows. His gut tells him so. "We'll see," he responds. "Good night, Potter, and Happy Christmas."

Without waiting for a response, Draco finds his own way back to the fireplace and floos home, where Astoria has already gotten Scorpius tucked away in bed. 

(Years later, when he bumps into Potter in Diagon Alley picking up a set of robes with distinctly green lining, he will smile in response to Potter's scowl. "Who would have guessed?")


End file.
